


Doctor Stephen Strange of Baker Street

by legendary_chris



Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Doctor Strange (2016) - Freeform, Eye of Agamatto, F/M, John Watson - Freeform, Murder Mystery, POV John Watson, Post-Avengers (2012)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-05
Updated: 2017-07-05
Packaged: 2018-11-28 07:16:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11412948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/legendary_chris/pseuds/legendary_chris
Summary: It was taking some time for John Watson to get used to Stephen Strange’s American accent, his Cloak of Levitation, and for goodness’ sake – his control over magic itself. It was hard enough to deal with his attitude as he had pretended to be “Sherlock Holmes”, the conceited master sleuth; but now, John had to deal with a man’s ego that spanned eternity and the multiverse, yet still inhabiting one human body.But still, he followed him.





	1. The Two Doctors

Doctor Stephen Strange stepped out the door of 221B Baker Street.

He looked side to side down the street, and then took the heavy red cloak that was folded neatly over his arm and cast it around the back of his neck in one sweeping movement as he smoothly strode down the stairs. Behind him stepped out Doctor John Watson, dressed in more contemporary fashion: in a dark colored suit jacket and tie and a pair of jeans.

"I don't understand why you always insist on wearing that ridiculous outfit," said John with a slight frown. "The coat with the collar turned up was one thing, but this..." he trailed off. Ever since Dr. Strange had revealed himself as the Sorcerer Supreme, Dr. Watson had been a little, well, miffed. He was used to being the only doctor in the flat, and now he was feeling a little outdone by a magical doctor.

Stephen cast a glance over one shoulder at John. “I don’t understand why you always insist on following me everywhere like a lost pup,” he said with a slight smirk. John didn’t appreciate this passing remark. “I do not…I am not…hmmph,” he replied, blushing slightly. He knew there was some truth in the statement, and thus couldn’t argue in the manner he’d prefer. “Alright, why don’t we focus on the matter at hand, eh, John?” said Stephen in a gentler tone.

“Fine,” Watson replied, comforted slightly. It was taking some time for him to get used to Stephen’s American accent, his Cloak of Levitation, and for goodness’ sake – his control over _magic itself_. It was hard enough to deal with his attitude as he had pretended to be “Sherlock Holmes”, the conceited master sleuth; but now, John had to deal with a man’s ego that spanned eternity and the multiverse, yet still inhabiting one human body.

But still, he followed him.

Doctor John Watson was completely enthralled by Doctor Stephen Strange, the Sorcerer Supreme, and bearer of the Eye of Agamatto. And despite his earlier, slightly hurtful taunt, John knew that Stephen felt completely the same about him.

They matched each other’s pace on the sidewalk, and both walked more quickly as they saw the yellow crime scene tape ahead.

Moments later, they arrived at the scene. Despite his new look and new name, the same old curious Sherlock was still inside the Doctor somewhere, and he smiled slightly in apparent anticipation as he approached. Meanwhile, John discreetly scanned the body. _Gunshot wound_ , he noted, as he examined the head of the corpse. _Married, too, poor bloke_ , he realized, eyes glancing down to the ring on the victim’s left hand.

“Well, it was clearly not a gang initiation, which would be typical of this area,” said Strange.

John shot him a glance, slightly jealous of the other’s rapid deductive powers. “What makes you say that?” he asked curiously. Gang initiation had been his first assumption about the nature of the murder.

“Too precise,” said the tall figure as he loomed over the dead body with his hands in his pockets. “Freshly minted gang members would not have the proficiency to pull off an execution-style killing like this.”

John nodded in assent. The detective/sorcerer had made a very good point…as always.

The local police were taking photos and collecting evidence with gloved hands. Strange continued to pace around the scene, clearly thinking deeply about the situation. John, however, stood in one place, musing over the details that he had gathered already. “ _Why was he alone?_ ” John thought, going back in his mind to the ring he found on the man’s hand. “ _Where was his family? At least a wife?_ ” he pondered, looking around the park where they had discovered the body. There was no sign of anyone having been crouched near the man; no one holding him as he took his final breaths. John’s mind wandered to his own situation: living with no one but a powerful sorcerer as a flat mate, not even a woman in his life besides his elderly landlady. He shook his head to clear it, and returned to the case; thoughts of his own life fled from his mind for the time being.


	2. Waking Nightmares and Sleeping Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was during the night of that grim day that John awoke in a start, in the midst of a panicked dream that he was back in the war...

It was during the night of that grim day that John awoke in a start, in the midst of a panicked dream that he was back in the war. He bolted upright in bed, panting and grasping the sheets. The gunshots surrounded him, he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t escape, he was about to die –

 “John? JOHN?” Stephen’s voice brought him back to the present. It cut through the dense, swirling cloud of dirt and dust that surrounded John in the desert of his imagination.

John inhaled sharply. “Where – what – I – oh!” he exclaimed in bursts of breath. He collapsed back into the headboard, shoulders heaving with sobs.

“Shh. Breathe.”

John took a deep, shuddering breath and looked up at Stephen. For some reason, the mesmerizing depth of Stephen’s stare gave John an immediate sense of relief. It took John several moments to realize that it was Stephen’s whispered invocation that was soothing him, not simply the master magician’s gaze.

“Better?” asked Stephen, as he stood up from where he had been crouched by John’s side.

 “Much better”, John mumbled, pulling his head up against the pillow, and falling into a deep, enchanted sleep.


	3. The Eye of Agamatto

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John awoke to the smell of coffee...

John awoke to the smell of coffee. He rolled onto his side, propped himself up on his right elbow, and clutched his head with both hands. Apparently, the magic used to lull him to sleep was just as strong as any sleeping pill. He groaned and pushed himself into a standing position, wobbling slightly where he stood. There was a gentle knock on the door a moment later.

“Come in,” he yawned, stretching his arms above his head.

Stephen slowly opened the door, backing into the room with a mug in each hand. “I know you had a bit of a rough night last night, so I thought I’d bring you something to help perk you up,” he said, with a hint of a smirk.

 “Bless you!” John sputtered. He took the mug that he recognized as his own, and saw that it was filled with coffee and cream, prepared just to his liking. “Why are you being so kind to me lately?” he questioned a few minutes later as he perched on the edge of the bed, finishing his drink. “Uh, no reason,” Strange said elusively, his eyes darting away. “No, there’s something, isn’t there?” John persisted.

Stephen sighed deeply as he set down his own mug on the table next to his chair.

“Is it about the case?” John persisted. “Or about rent being due this week, or about Molly Hooper?”

Stephen rolled his eyes. “Molly Hooper? Why would it…never mind. No, it’s not about any of those things. It’s about Dormammu, actually.”

“I thought that situation had been handled?” John frowned, remembering the incident last year when “Sherlock” revealed that he was actually an American sorcerer with incredible powers, and ended up saving the entire world from a planet-consuming entity called Dormammu.

“Well, it _had_ …”

“Oh come on. What’s going on, and what does it have to do with me?” John’s voice raised ever-so-slightly in pitch and volume. 

“Okay, first of all: don’t use that tone with me! Second of all: technically, it’s secret Avengers business.” Stephen looked down at the floor and scuffed the toe of his shoe into the floor. “I’m not supposed to tell anyone.”

John cocked his head to the side and cast a glance at his friend through squinted eyes. “Not even your best friend?” he inquired, obviously slightly hurt.

Stephen pursed his lips. “Well…maybe just my best friend,” he conceded.

John smiled triumphantly as Stephen went on to explain.

“Dormammu has recently threatened to return to Earth if his demands are not met. There are several ultimatums that we aren’t prepared to meet; but at the same time, we can’t let him devour our universe, either.”

John set his cup down on his bedside table. “That sounds serious,” he acknowledged. “But I still don’t see what that has to do with me.”

Stephen took in a long breath and let it out. “I need you to do something for me - just for a little while,” he said, holding both hands up in front of him, as if to deflect any possible arguments.

_Oh great_ , thought John, _he’s going to want me to be his guinea pig for some new spell or something_.

“I need you to take the Eye of Agamatto for me.”

John’s eyes widened. One of the Doctor’s most powerful artifacts was the Eye. John knew from late night conversations with his flatmate that the light magic contained in the Eye could only be wielded by someone with “a pure heart, clean soul, and good intentions”. There was no way that Strange was choosing to pass it to him.

“You can’t be serious,” he said, with a half-smile.

Stephen met John’s gaze with a powerful stare. “I’m dead serious.”


End file.
